


After the Embers Die

by doodlelover



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Reconciliation, Weirdmageddon, after they grow up of course, mentions of past minor character death, will get explicit in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlelover/pseuds/doodlelover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Weirdmageddon, the family must deal with the emotional and physical aftermath, along with figuring out how to seal the rift permanently. There’s only one being that’s capable of helping them achieve that, and luckily, they managed to trap him in the body of a young boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I said I wouldn’t do it until November, but I figured doing a short prologue couldn’t hurt, right? I literally typed this up now, so sorry for any mistakes! Let me know if you’re interested in me continuing this. I'm actually really excited about starting this, which hasn't happened in a long time! I'll add warnings as they pop up. Expect this to get dark before things get better. After all, they did just survive the apocalypse. But honestly, I just want them all to be happy again. Also, chapters will definitely get longer, or I'll update several times in a week. Enjoy!

Dipper’s favorite part about autumn was the silence. He could picture his backyard by closing his eyes. The trees’ barren branches, save for the small birds that peppered them like rustling black leaves; the dried and dead glass crunching under his feet as he walked; and the smell of something earthy and calming that you just couldn’t place or describe properly. He never viewed it as the world dying, just the world going to sleep.

Because this, this was the world truly dying, or already long dead.

When Dipper opened his eyes in front of the remains of the Mystery Shack, he almost expected to see the sky still red, almost expected to hear screaming and fires burning in the distance. That image had been burned into his mind so thoroughly that it still lingered whenever he closed his eyes. But the sky was blue, the fires were out and only smoke could be seen in the distance. And it was quiet. Not the calming quiet of autumn, but of decay and death, and if it had been a month ago it would have brought on a panic attack, but he’s too tired, too numbed by everything that had happened and everything that still wasn’t taken care of yet.

“Hey, snap out of it, kid,” he heard Grunkle Stan say behind him gently. A hand was put on his shoulder and he didn’t flinch. “I found it, so let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Dipper mumbled, almost sounding as if he were in a trance. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He and Stan walked away from the rubble of the Mystery Shack, not looking behind them, and left.

\--

When they got back to Ford’s bunker, they found Mabel sitting down picking grass by the entrance, bundled up in a sweater they’d found in one of the shops in the next town. With the Mystery Shack gone, not many of their personal items had made it. Dipper would suggest making new ones, but he knew Mabel’s heart wouldn’t be in it. He had actually just gotten several of the same shirt and shorts, since he’d never gotten excited about shopping the way Mabel did. Mabel’s mood had been slightly elevated when she was shopping, but now it seemed like she was back to where she started when they first rescued her. It was hard for her to look anyone in the eye now.

At the sound of the doors closing, Mabel looked up and directly down again when Dipper caught her gaze. He made a pained face in response, but didn’t react to it otherwise. Stan looked at both of them worriedly.

“Is my good for nothing brother downstairs still?” Stan asked bitterly.

“Yeah…” Mabel responded.

Stan’s shoulders squared, fist almost crushing what they had searched almost half of the day for, and began walking towards the entrance. Before he descended however, he knelt down and kissed Mabel on the top of her head. “After we’re through here, we’ll go find a place that’s still serving pancakes, okay sweetie?”

Mabel managed a small smile at that, and responded, “That sounds nice.”

Reluctant to say anything that might upset Mabel, Dipper simply followed Stan down the winding steps. It was more lit up now thanks to Ford fixing up the place. When they had first gotten here, it was almost like he expected it to look how it did when he last saw it. The dust and smell of mildew threw him off enough that he had spent almost a week cleaning and doing minor repairs on everything that desperately needed it, and another preparing the holding chamber in lieu of Dipper telling him of their encounter with the shapeshifter. Now, that seemed like a century ago.

“Hey, Ford!” Stan yelled once they got to the sealed door that blocked the bunker off from the rest of the world. He began pounding on the metal roughly. “Open up, you old geezer!”

The intercom crackled next to the door, before Ford’s voice came through it. “Stanley, use the intercom! I’m doing delicate work in here, and that banging isn’t helping.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “I could care less about your nerd work right now. Dipper and I found it, so let us in.”

A moment of silence, and then the clicking of several locks and seals being undone could be heard. The door opened, and Stan shoved past his brother, pushing the metal piece of technology into his hands in the process. Ford glared at Stan’s retreating back, but said nothing. Dipper gave Ford a sheepish smile as he passed him and followed his uncle.

“What is that thing supposed to do, anyway?” Stan asked with his arms crossed, looking around the room so he wouldn’t have to look at his brother. 

Ford seemed to perk up a little, and started to walk forward. “This is something of my own making that I used for the very holding cells that are down here.” He paused to knock on the glass of one of the cylinder-shaped holding tanks. “Although, this is a newer prototype that will work much better on our current prisoner. After I make a few more tweaks, I’ll be able to use it to not only put creatures in stasis, but to use magic runes that enable the prisoner to talk, but render them immobile.”

“Less wordy version, please.”

It was now Ford’s turn to roll his eyes. “They’ll be able to talk, but not move. Something that these tanks previously couldn’t do.” He turned to Dipper. “Dipper, would you like to help me install it when I’ve finished perfecting it?”

Dipper was ready to respond enthusiastically, when Stan interrupted, coming over to stand in front of Dipper. “Oh heck no, you are not dragging him or Mabel into any more of this. I told you to stay away from them.”

“Grunkle Stan—” he tried to protest, which earned him a glare over his shoulder. Dipper’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

“We’re leaving to get pancakes, so just get it done,” Stan almost snarled. He put his hands on Dipper’s shoulders and began to lead him out.

Dipper looked behind him, Stan, and Ford to the holding cell behind them as they left. In it was a kid about the same age as he and Mabel strapped to the chair with any chain they could find in this place. He was unconscious and held almost completely solid by the faulty stasis chamber, bangs covering the rest of his face. But Dipper knew he could hear them, knew he was taking in every conversation being held in this room. Ford and Stan would deny it, but Dipper knew one thing for certain after everything he knew had changed:

He would never underestimate Bill Cipher again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, I lied about the longer chapter thing, but here's another chapter a day later. :u If I can keep this up, I'll be able to post a chapter every day. Feedback is extremely appreciated. I haven't written in a long time, so I'm a bit rusty when it comes to pacing and catching typos. Also, I'm looking for someone to read over the chapters before I post them, if anyone wants to volunteer! Enjoy!

Their breakfast-for-dinner outing was, well, tense to say the least. They had picked a round table instead of a booth, so thankfully they didn’t have to go through the awkwardness of seeing who would sit next to whom. 

The place they had found was in a tiny village about a half hour outside of Gravity Falls, and it was no Greasy’s Diner, but it was still nice in its own way. The place was almost empty when they arrived, the only people occupying the small eatery being a family of three at the other end of the place, the waitress, and the cook that stood behind the counter at a grill. There was soft oldies music playing over the speakers, and the chef swayed her hips to the beat as she cooked.

Mabel’s eyes lit up at the prospect of one of her favorite sugary meals as soon as it was placed in front of her, but after a few bites, Dipper could tell the excitement had been drained from her. He and Stan tried to fill the silence with small talk about the rebuilding of the town, but it was stunted with too-long pauses between topics.

Dipper glanced at Mabel, who was now resting her head in one of her hands, while the other pushed pieces of soggy pancake around on the plate. Swallowing hard, he started, “So, I hear Pacifica and her family are coming back soon, Mabel.”

She raised her head and gave him a questioning look. Pacifica and her family were one of the first to evacuate as soon as things started. Their mansion definitely wasn’t spared, but it had done much better than most of the buildings in Gravity Falls. As soon as things calmed down, they had hired workers to start on rebuilding their mansion (and in smaller quantities, parts of the town). While the mansion wasn’t in perfect condition yet, the Northwest’s were probably eager to get back to doctor up the town. After all, if there were no Gravity Falls, a large part of their family’s power was gone.

Taking her look as encouragement to go on, he cleared his throat and continued. “Yeah, they, um, they’re going to be donating to help rebuild the town. I hear it was partially Pacifica’s idea. Maybe you could, you know…” he trailed off, not exactly sure how to end his sentence. He opted to look down at his hands that were balled in his lap instead, hating that he had no idea how to comfort his sister, something that he had always knew how to do.

Stan swallowed a large bite of sausage and said gruffly, “That girl’s gotten a lot smarter since the last time I saw her. Still uppity, but tolerable. It’s like you guys are some cartoon protagonists that spread goodness, life lessons, and all that other garbage.” He waved his fork for emphasis, sending a few flecks of syrup flying.

Mabel giggled a bit at that, but Dipper didn’t miss the pang of hurt that flitted across her face a second later. She did, however, continue to eat her pancakes despite how soggy they had gotten. Without Mabel seeing, Grunkle Stan winked at him. Dipper smiled slightly in return, and returned to his own food as well. 

He looked out the window as he chewed, noting that the trees here weren’t charred and blackened like they were back in Gravity Falls, but for a moment he thought he saw red in the sky. When he blinked, it was gone.

\--

“Now kids, the only reason we’re going anywhere _near_ that place is because almost all of the town’s motels are ruined, the ones that aren’t I’ve been banned from, and it’s illegal to park this thing anywhere you don’t own. Which normally wouldn’t be a problem, but there’s cops everywhere now.”

They were driving back to Ford’s bunker in the truck, where Stan had parked the miraculously still intact RV. Dipper wondered silently why they didn’t just park it near the Mystery Shack, but he had an inkling why Stan didn’t want and didn’t mention it. After everything that had happened, it was probably best that they avoid the police as much as possible, and the bunker was well out of the way of anyone investigating.

They parked the truck, loud engine going quiet, and Dipper could hear the faint sound of crickets. The sound that normally would have him pressing a pillow over his head was oddly soothing. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of after Mabel, who right away signaled that she was going to the RV to sleep. The sun was just beginning to set, so he figured she just wanted to be alone. Lately, that’s all she wanted to do.

Barely a month ago he was ready to stay in Gravity Falls and be away from Mabel indefinitely, and now the thought of her wanting to be alone made him want to curl into a ball. He wondered if that’s how his twin was feeling. He wondered if that was how she felt when he first mentioned it to her.

Dipper bit his lip and turned to Stan, who was looking at the entrance of the bunker, where Ford had immerged from covered in what looked like oil and some kind of sludge. His glasses were partially covered in soot.

“Well?” Stan asked as Ford cleaned off his glasses with the edge of his ripped sweater.

Ford pushed his glasses back into place before speaking. Dipper could almost hear Stan’s impatience.

“I may need some help installing it.”

“Not Dipper,” Stan growled.

Ford gave him a sour look. “I wasn’t going to say Dipper. Stan, you rebuilt and started the portal yourself, albeit with the help of the journals. You’re more than qualified to help me.”

Stan uncrossed his arms balled his hands into fists at his side. Dipper felt apprehension coil in his stomach. “And who says I want to help? After everything that’s happened, why should I?”

Ford matched his brother’s anger with his own. “This is no time for petty arguments! I would think you’d understand that by now.”

“What I understand is that you caused this, and almost got the entire town and our family killed!”

“I caused this? If you hadn’t opened the portal again, none of this would have happened!”

Dipper looked between the two, not sure what to do. A suffocating air was buzzing around them, and the louder they yelled, the more worried he got. He looked toward the RV, hoping beyond hope that Mabel couldn’t hear them. Thinking about Mabel, his own anger took hold of him.  
“Well if you had _trusted_ us, maybe Mabel wouldn’t have—”

“ _Shut up_!” Dipper yelled over their shouts. They both flinched in response, turning their heads simultaneously to look at him. “You’re arguing isn’t helping anything! In fact, it’s making everything _worse_.” Dipper began pacing, waving his hands frantically as he talked. “I almost want to say that if you two would have resolved your differences in the first place, none of this would have happened. But you know what? Now I’m sure that’s never going to be possible.” He was almost sure he saw his uncles flinch, but he didn’t care. “The point is, this is none of our faults. This isn’t Stan’s, this isn’t Ford’s, and it is especially _not Mabel’s_!”

He ended the last part in a scream, shoulders heaving and his pacing coming to a halt when he was done. He stared at the ground in anger, not wanting to see either of his uncle’s responses. He realized belatedly that there were tears at the edges of his eyes, and he wiped them away in frustration, blinking furiously to try and stop any more from flowing.

“Kid…”

“Dipper…”

He cut both of them off. “Just… Just stop, okay? No more fighting.”

Before they could say anything, he turned to the RV, fully prepared to sleep his anger away.


	3. Chapter 3

Falling asleep with adrenaline and anger coursing through your blood was always hard, and Dipper should have remembered that before he rushed into the RV. Now, as he was laying down on the bed the table doubled as when folded down, he wished he had stormed off into the woods for a walk instead.

Normally, overthinking was his strong suit, but now he just wanted to block out everything that had happened. So many weird things had happened over the summer, but none of them came close to this. And even with the apocalypse, he would have been fine if he just had Mabel to talk to. But she hated him, and the only other person he felt would understand was Ford, and Stan wouldn’t let him go near him without him being there. And he was too angry at Stan for keeping him away from Ford to—

Dipper groaned and pulled a pillow that smelled of moth balls and dust over his face, coughing a bit as he did so. He pulled it off once he came to the conclusion that he would rather not die from suffocation by dust particles. He stared at the cobwebs in the corner of the RV for a while, trying to keep the flashbacks at bay. Sleep deprivation was normal for him now, but what he couldn’t deal with were the nightmares that now plagued him.

Nightmares were normal for anyone, especially him, especially in Gravity Falls, but even getting tricked into a deal and being made into a living sock puppet never gave him the nightmares like he had now. If he weren’t positive that Bill was locked up down in the bunker, he would have guessed it was Bill getting payback for stopping his plans that he had apparently been working on for centuries.

That was another thing: Bill’s endgame was obviously to escape his realm and enter theirs, but he had said something about being trapped there, and that it was deteriorating. Dipper wanted so badly to solve everything that had happened, and why Bill had done it, but that seemed like it was impossible now. He wanted—no, _needed_ —something to distract himself with. He could go exploring on his own, but he knew that it would pale in comparison to what he really wanted to know. He needed to find a way around Stan. He didn’t necessarily need to listen to Stan anymore, since he had been posing as Ford in the first place, so technically he just needed permission from Ford to help him. But he loved Stan, even though he would never say it out loud, and he appreciated Stan wanting to protect him. No, he would find another way, and if not… Well, Ford and Stan had to sleep some time.

Dipper looked at the wooden door separating him from the back room and his twin, and whispered, “Goodnight, Mabel.”

\--

“I’m surprised you’re actually trusting me with this.”

Ford glanced at Stanley out of the corner of his eye but said nothing, instead continuing to focus on his work. After Dipper’s tirade and departure, he and Stan had agreed that it was best to let him cool down rather than confront him. They had gone down to the bunker together wordlessly, only talking when absolutely necessary, which suited Ford perfectly fine, as the work they were doing required concentration.

They were lucky to have found this bit of technology at all. It would have almost been impossible to make it from scratch without going to several towns to gather supplies. Ford wasn’t even sure if it was an option to search the spacecraft again. For all he knew, it was lost among the rubble or had collapsed into itself from the earthquakes, and without the alien technology, it would have been impossible to complete. Luckily, he would be able to finish it with the scrap he had let accumulate in the bunker.

Truly, he didn’t need Stan until installing it, but it was nice to have a helping hand. As long as Stan kept mostly silent, it wouldn’t be a problem. Dipper’s anger had snapped them both out of their own, and he could feel his exhaustion weighing on him like a cloud of smog. Directing Stanley helped him to stay awake.

When he looked over at Stan, who had shed his jacket and was now just wearing his white undershirt, he could see dark circles under his brother’s eyes, and could tell that he was blinking harshly in order to keep himself awake. Stan yawned, shook his head, but continued to work on the small cuff-links Ford had asked him to. Alien metal was finicky, and the laser Ford gave him even more so, but Stan seemed to be doing admirable work.

Ford stifled a yawn of his own and said, “It’ll take a few more hours to finish this before we need to install it on the cuffs. You can head up and go to sleep until then.”

Stan grunted, and lifted the turned off laser to point at Ford, “Listen here, you. This is getting done. Today. I’m not taking a break if you’re not going to.”

Ford batted the laser away with an annoyed look, but relented. “Fine. We’ll sleep for a few hours, and we’ll continue at daybreak. You have room to sleep in that lunking mobile home, I assume?”

Stan scoffed. “I once took four kids and Soos on a road trip across Oregon to sabotage my competitors. I think the lunk can handle me and the kids.”

Ford made a face. “And you question my guardianship.”

“Can it, Poindexter,” Stan said, putting the laser down and taking off his protective gloves, pulling at the material with his teeth.

“Poindexter…?” Ford questioned.

Stan seemed a bit confused at the question at first, but then laughed at bit. “Nevermind. You might want to catch up on those pop culture references though, otherwise you’re not going to know half of the stuff going on around you.”

He huffed up a bit at the implication. “I have my work. And I doubt knowing the temporary nuances of this generation will hinder my ability to communicate.”

Stan was halfway to the door when he grunted and said, “Says the old man who still says _floppy disk_.”

Ford opened his mouth once again to reply, but Stan was already gone. He couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his tired face as he pulled his own protective gear off, putting the device that he could only describe as a power cell in a small lock box. He tucked the box under his arm, but before he turned the lights off, he walked up to the holding chamber Bill was being contained in.

In the form they had managed to contain him in, he looked innocent enough. He was barely older than Dipper and Mabel, with dirty blond hair and slightly tanned skin. It was hard to make out the rest of him. Curious, Ford leaned down to try and get a glimpse under the kid’s bangs.

What greeted him made him stumble back and almost fall over, clutching the box under his arm even tighter. For just a moment, one of its eyes had opened unnaturally wide, bright yellow with a slit pupil.

Catching his breath, he looked again. Nothing.

Apprehension clutching at his chest, he stood fully and went to the door. With one last look over his shoulder at the lit up holding tank, he flipped the switch for the lights and closed the metal door with a resounding slam.

\--

Dipper woke up instantly, completely ignorant to when he had fallen asleep during the night. He sat up, covers pooling in his lap. Drearily, he rubbed at his eyes before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He walked to the small bathroom next to him, washed his face and did the rest of his normal morning routine. He didn’t bother changing clothes; he was never one to worry about wearing something two days in a row.

He heard excited voices outside and immediately went to see what was going on. When he opened the door, he was greeted with a wide grin and a, “Hey, dude!” from Soos, who stood over a roughly built fire pit making sausages and eggs.

“Soos!” Dipper exclaimed happily, jumping over the stairs to the RV and running over to hug him tightly. The large man hugged him back, ruffling his hair in the process. Dipper laughed before pulling away. “How’s Abuela?

Soos scratched his head, “Oh, you know, adjusting to life as a chair. That’s why I haven’t been able to make it out to see ya guys. She needs a lot of help, not being able to move and all.”

Dipper frowned, but before he could reply, Stan spoke up. “Yeah, we’ll have that taken care of pretty soon. Ford and his big brain are working on it. It’s one of our first priorities, I made sure of it.”

Soos seemed incredibly delighted and bashful at the same time. “Well, shucks, dudes. Thank you, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t mention it,” Stan replied, getting a paper plate and taking a few sausages for himself. “We take care of our own.”

If it were possible, Soos’s grin widened even further. Dipper smiled at the exchange.

When they had trapped Bill, they had assumed all of the anomalies that he had caused would go back to normal, including all of the people he turned into varying objects and animals. But that wasn’t the case. Luckily, the effects hadn’t caused that much damage, so whoever was afflicted wasn’t in harm’s way until they could figure it out. They had tried some spells to turn them back, but to no avail. Ford had insisted that since they weren’t in any immediate danger, they should be taken care of last. Stan and Dipper had shut him down as soon as he said it, and the combined disapproving glares made Ford relent. 

So, one of the first things they planned to get out of Bill was to find out how to turn everyone back to normal. Dipper just prayed that whatever Ford had in mind to extract that information from Bill worked, and that containing Bill while awake would work. So far, since they had kept him in stasis since his capture, they had no idea what he was capable of in a human body. He could have all of his powers, some of them, or none at all. Even if it turned out to be the latter, it was better to be safe than sorry, which was why Ford had sent him and Stan looking in the rubble of the Mystery Shack in the first place.

“Where’s Mabel?” Dipper asked, much too aware of his twin’s absence.

Stan looked down at his place, rubbing the back of his neck. “She grabbed a plate and went back to the RV. Kid still doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Dipper sat down on one of the logs that had been placed around the fire and looked at the ground. “Grunkle Stan, I… I don’t know what to do. I just want to talk to her, help her, but I have no idea what to do…”

Soos sat down next to him and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Hey, you guys have been through lots of stuff together and always make up. I’m sure you can do it this time too. We’re all rootin’ for you’s two.”

Dipper wanted to smile, but he knew it would end up looking more like a grimace.

Stan cleared his throat awkwardly. “We’ll try talking to her again tomorrow, okay kiddo? I would say today, but Ford and I need to finish working on that thing pretty soon.”

That made Dipper look up. “I want to help.”

Stan’s expression immediately turned from concerned to frustrated, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve already said a million tim—”

“I went through the same thing you and Ford did. I helped capture Bill, and he’s completely harmless right now. Don’t you think I deserve to be there when we can finally get answers out of him after all of this? Even if you don’t think I am, I’m ready for this. I can defend myself if anything goes wrong.”

Stan actually looked surprised for a moment. Then, after his face went through a million different expressions, it finally settled on one. He looked… Dipper would say it looked impressed, mixed with something else that he couldn’t identify.

“Alright, kid, you’ve convinced me. I’m glad you’re finally sure of yourself.”

Dipper grinned. “Hey, after surviving the apocalypse, I’m surprised I haven’t bought my own pair of brass knuckles by now.”

Stan smirked. “Well, alright then. We’ll go down as soon as Ford says he’s ready for us.”

Excitement bubbled inside of Dipper, as well as a slight amount of fear. He just hoped he didn’t regret wanting to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got a longer chapter done. I was trying to avoid it, but it's probably going to divert from canon, unless I've guessed correctly where the next episode is going. Let me know if you spy any typos or anything else that disrupts the flow. Next chapter, Bill finally wakes up!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be some triggers in this chapter, namely choking and body horror. Please read at your own risk. Enjoy!

Dipper had steeled himself beforehand, so he wasn’t shaking or sweating by the time they made their way down to the bunker. He hadn’t taken the time before this to look around, so he was awed by the amount of work Ford had been able to get done on it since the first time he’d discovered it with Wendy, Mabel, and Soos. Most of the cobwebs were gone, and things he’d thought were irreparable looked as if they’d never been broken. The small crawl tunnel had been replaced by a large steel door.

He paused a moment to look at the cot where Ford had obviously been sleeping, and he frowned. It didn’t seem right that while they all slept upstairs, Ford was sleeping far below the waking world, almost like a prisoner, albeit of his own volition. But he shook his head and decided to think about that later.

When they entered the room Bill was being held in, where previously there had been runes and a booby trap in the middle, Stan shut the steel door behind them and sealed it shut, the sound it made seeming unnervingly final. Dipper looked in awe at the large holding cell Ford had created for Bill in place of the smaller one he was previously in. It was at least three times the size of the ones he had seen down here. And in the middle of it was a lone chair with Bill in it, being strapped to it with a plethora of different chains. Stan and Ford exchanged a look, then looked down at Dipper.

“Dipper,” Ford addressed him. “Stanley is going to help me attach these to Bill.” He held up four small metal ringlets and one larger one. Their steel surface was pristine, and he could tell a lot of work had went into them. “We need to put each of the pairs on simultaneously for them to work, so we’ll need to you control the chamber door. As soon as we open it, Bill will begin to awaken from stasis, so we need you to shut the door behind us in case anything goes wrong. Can you do that?”

Dipper nodded, eyebrows furrowing in determination. “I can.”

Ford seemed pleased with his response, giving him an approving smile. “Alright then, Stanley, are you ready to do this?”

Stan cracked his knuckles, “When am I not?”

Dipper and Ford both made a face at his never-ending bravado.

“Well then, let’s start.”

Dipper took his place by the control panel, Ford giving him a simple explanation of how to control it, and if things got out of hand, how to purge the chamber. Dipper hoped his uncle knew that there was no way in hell that he would ever resort to that. He would rather have Bill escape again than sacrifice anyone in his family.

Once again, Ford had utilized a key system. Once Stan and Ford were in place, he turned the two keys, slammed the button, and watched as his great uncles entered the chamber, which had begun to steam at the top and bottom vents. A loud siren started to ring throughout the bunker, the red light at the top of the machine surging to life, casting demonic shadows over the room. He closed it, and watched with worry as they went to work.

They started with the wrists, clamping them on the fragile looking limbs at the same time. What looked like an electric current began to connect the two bracelets, looking like the pulse on a heart monitor. They waited for a reaction, and when there wasn’t one, they went on to Bill’s ankles…

…And that’s when things went to hell.

Bill’s head snapped back, and a loud screaming that was muffled by the chamber’s walls met Dippers ears. It wasn’t a normal scream, sounding like several demonic screeches echoing at once. Dipper’s hand immediately went to open the door, but Ford’s command to stop made him freeze.

“Stan, hurry!” Ford yelled at his brother. “We need to get that last band on!”

Stan snapped back into action, grabbing his half of the larger band. Both of them positioned themselves on either side of the demon’s neck. The closer they got, the harder it seemed for them to try and put the collar on. Dipper imagined it was like trying to make two magnets touch. His hand hovered shakily over the emergency release button, but his eyes were glued to what he was seeing. The siren had seemed to get louder, and the screens around them were flashing warning messages.

Stan yelled, and it seemed to egg Ford on as well, because suddenly they managed to seal the collar around the demon’s neck, a blue light starting to glow around the middle of it.

Then everything went silent. The monitors, lights, and almost everything else in the bunker had went out. The only light left on was the one above Bill, whose head had fallen limp. The light sent sinister shadows across the bunker’s floor and his uncle’s faces.

Dipper could hear his own breathing and heartbeat echoing in his ears. Ford and Stanley were standing back, seemingly waiting for a reaction, their own chests heaving with sweat dripping down both of their temples.

Stan began to turn, presumably to tell Dipper to open the chamber door, before he and Ford were slammed against the glass by an invisible force. Dipper screamed their names, watching with horror as Bill’s human body was engulfed with black flame that melted the chains wrapped around him, the remains dripping to the ground like black sludge. Bill’s body began to twitch in a way that no human should be capable of. The demon fell hard to the ground on his hands and knees, body still twitching, the air around him whipping his clothes and hair wildly.

Then, his head whipped up, eyes wide and bloodshot, and another blood-curdling scream left him. His face looked to be morphing from one form to the next, before finally becoming stable. His mouth snapped shut, the screaming abruptly stopping, the power to the rest of the room whirring back to life, but this time there were no warning messages. Dipper was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but watch.

Bill was still on his hands and knees, breathing labored and heavy. Stan was knocked out, his head having hit the glass hard. The glass must have hit the metal plate in Ford’s head, because he was still conscious, although clutching his left arm in pain.

Abruptly, the demon’s head snapped to Ford. Faster than Dipper would have thought possible, he had scrambled in front of Ford, his small hands wrapping around Ford’s neck, squeezing tightly.

“ _What did you do_?” the demon yelled, a bit of demonic echo still lingering. Ford grasped at the demon’s hands, trying to pry them off.

“Great uncle Ford!” Dipper yelled, his body and mind suddenly spurring into action, he slammed the emergency release button and rushed to his uncle.

Dipper tackled Bill, yelling, “Get your hands off my uncle!”

They tumbled to the floor, Bill’s back ending up in the black sludge that used to be the chains confining him, and Dipper threw a punch before holding the demon’s arms down by the wrists. Bill thrashed under him, albeit weakly. His eyes looked murderous though, and it made Dipper falter just enough for Bill to buck Dipper off and try pinning him to the floor. By that time though, Ford was composed enough to be able to trap Bill in a choke hold. Bill gasped as he clawed at the arm that was tightening on his throat.

“Calm down, or we’ll be forced to hurt you!” Ford yelled at the demon.

Bill laughed hysterically. “Y-You think you worthless beings can hurt _me_?”

Ford’s expression became steely. Without a word, he punched Bill hard enough to knock him out, his body going limp instantly. Ford dropped him unceremoniously, turning to Dipper.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I-I think so,” Dipper replied, sitting up. “But what about…” He looked at Stan.

“He’s fine, just knocked out.” He bent down next to Dipper, voice becoming serious. “I must have miscalculated. I didn’t expect Bill to have that much power left him in. When he realized what we were doing, he must have used the power he could still let out as a last resort. I don’t suspect he has anything left in him, though.”

Dipper looked down at the demon. When asleep, he looked as normal and innocent as any boy his age would. It was hard to associate the body in front of him with the demon that had started the apocalypse and just tried to strangle his uncle to death.

Ford helped Dipper up, looking down at the boy as well.

“Bill Cipher is, for all intents and purposes… _mortal_.”

\--

Rather than carry Stan all the way up the bunker’s stairs, Ford pulled out a spare cot for him to sleep on. Dipper put a cool towel over Stan’s head and said goodnight to Ford, who he guessed would probably be up all night anyway. As much as Dipper wanted to help him with Bill, he was exhausted and needed some rest. With Bill knocked out, he didn’t think anything exciting would happen anyway, and…he wanted to try and talk to his sister. Despite Grunkle Stan saying they would talk to her tomorrow, he wanted to try to talk to her alone first again, and at least now he had an excuse, although he wondered if telling her what had just happened would hurt or help.

Walking up the winding stairs of the bunker, he practiced in his head how he would start the conversation, feeling like a fool. He had never had to practice what he was going to say before when it came to Mabel. He’d only ever needed to when it came to Wendy, other girls, or people he admired. For a while he paced in the woods, trying to think of the best way to approach Mabel. He had no idea how long he took, whether he was minutes or hours, but when he was finally sure he could do it, he made his way back to their small camp.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost ran straight into the person occupying his thoughts.

“Hey, Dipper,” Mabel said quietly, almost bashful, a few feet away from the RV. She had dark circles under her eyes, something that was usually characteristic of himself.

“Mabel…” he started, taking a breath.

She stopped him, looking down at her feet. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a soggy flapjack lately. I’ve just been… I mean… What happened with Bill…”

Even without seeing the tears starting to form, he could hear it in her voice. Without thinking about it for even a second, he stepped forward and wrapped his sibling in a tight hug. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, Mabel,” he said honestly.

“I do though! Everything that happened was because of me!”

Mabel tried pulling away, but he held on tighter, shutting his eyes tightly and focusing completely on what she was saying.

“You just wanted to do what made you happy, and I was selfish, and it almost killed all of us… And the town… Everyone…”

Dipper didn’t stop hugging her, even when he felt her shoulders start to shake, and her hiccups turned into sobs. He remained silent, knowing that anything he said wouldn’t help. Belatedly, he realized that the reason he couldn’t find the right words to make her feel better was because _she_ was the one that needed to say something. Mabel had been burying her feelings out of guilt the entire time, and Dipper was so wrapped up in himself that he never stopped to think that the only thing she needed was for him to listen. He had let his sister, his best friend, go this long in her own suffering because he didn’t tell her that he was there for her.

And no wonder she thought he wouldn’t be. She thought that him staying in Gravity Falls meant leaving her behind. Between their last real conversation and now, he hadn’t had time to explain to her that being separated didn’t mean leaving each other. But now, he was positive he couldn’t stay in Gravity Falls without his sister, his twin.

Dipper hadn’t realized he was crying until Mabel pulled away from his weakened grasp and wiped at his tears with the sleeves of her sweater. A sweater that he recognized very well.

“You… How did you…?”

Mabel giggled, wiping snot from her nose. “When we went on that road trip, I left some of my stuff in the RV, apparently. Waddles sniffed it out for me.”

Dipper couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. Again without thinking, he hugged his sister, and this time she hugged him back. He knew everything wasn’t fixed between them, and it probably wouldn’t be for a while, but he felt much lighter. And maybe it was the twin telepathy, maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he thought that Mabel felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write. I hope you had just as much fun reading it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunken grunkles and rebuilding. Alcohol is consumed, and there's past underage drinking mentioned. I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but hey, next bit we get to see more Bill! And then the real fun can start. These first five chapters were basically a prelude to the actual story. I wanted to cement where everyone was first. I hope you enjoy!

Stan woke up with a pounding headache and with more random body aches than normal. “Ugh, why do I feel like I’m back in Columbia?”

He winced as he sat up, head spinning. It took him a few moments before he realized where he was, and a few more to remember why he was in the bunker instead of the RV. His mind immediately started racing, and when he attempted to stand, he ended up falling into the steel wall next to him, causing a loud slam to echo throughout the bunker. As he was trying to recover from the light-headedness that moving too fast had brought on, Ford came through the door.

“Stan!” he exclaimed, coming over and gently taking his arm to help him sit back down. Stan doesn’t protest, glad for the assistance. He spared a rude thought to whatever omniscient being thought growing old was a good idea to apply to humans. He was no expert like his brother, but he was sure there was some asshole god out there that was responsible.

Ford sat down in a chair opposite the cot Stan had been laying on, folding his hands in his lap. “What do you remember before you got knocked out?”

Stan rubbed at the side of his head, wincing when he prodded his sore spot. “Mind getting an old man a drink first?”

Ford pursed his lips, but asked. “What kind?” He stood and went over to where Stan assumed he kept his beverages. When he opened it, he saw some sodas and bottled water. Stan didn’t want to know how old those were.

“Eh, what time is it?”

“Three in the afternoon. You were out for a considerable amount of time.”

He took a moment to think. “Where are the kids?”

“I believe they’re with a young lady named Pacifica, doing charity work or something of the kind. They plan on spending the night there, apparently.”

“And the, uh, nacho?”

“Sedated, for now.”

Stan nodded, then shrugged. “Well, it’s five-o-clock somewhere. Gimme the whiskey.” When Ford began to look cross, Stan pointed at him, saying, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Ford rolled his eyes and wordlessly grabbed a stool to reach one of the boxes on top of his storage containers. When he moved the box, it sent a cascade of dust into the air, the tiny specs glinting in the artificial light. He handed it to Stan, who looked at the year and made a noise of approval. He brushed the dust off of it before uncapping it and taking a swig, face contorting for a second from the burn. Stan took another drink, this time much heartier, and handed it Ford with an unreadable expression.

He glanced down at the bottle, then back up at Stan several times. Finally, Ford took the bottle from his hand. For a second he looked unsure.

“You know, it’s been over thirty years since I’ve indulged,” he said, rubbing his pant leg nervously. Stan noticed they had stains on them, and briefly wondered what his brother was working on all the time. He went out sometimes to take care of some of the small monsters still meandering around, but most of his time was spent down here. It must have been pretty important for him to ignore everything that was going on outside.

“So you’re a lightweight now, who cares. You pretty much always were,” Stan jabbed, successfully sounding nonchalant about it.

Face going hard, Ford brought the bottle up to his lips and took a long pull. 

_Heh, still falls for it,_ he thought. Stan could tell he struggled to keep it down, but he wasn’t going to call Ford out for it. He’d get used to the burn after a few more. If he managed not to throw up, that is.

It took Stan a few more drinks to finally be able to feel a pleasant buzz, which made some of the aching in his muscles and joints go away. Ford, however, had only taken that one drink, and looked relaxed already. They chatted idly and more than a little awkwardly, skirting around serious topics and opting towards more mundane ones instead. Stan wasn’t as privy on new technology as Mabel and Dipper were, but he still knew a crapton more than Ford, so he had a bit of fun telling him of the new inventions that had come out. And, okay, he may have tossed in a few that weren’t real for kicks. Stan was sure Ford could tell when he was lying, but that was fine with him. Ford would toss it right back at him, saying how he knew it was only a matter of time until blah, blah, blah was invented because of more blah.

Overall, the atmosphere was relaxing. Almost tavern-ish in a way, like on a Tuesday night after a bad day at work, talking with the bartender while he idly cleaned some glasses. Stan was still incredibly pissed at his brother for what had happened, but he would get to that when there wasn’t alcohol present, and his head wasn’t pounding. He wasn’t in a hurry.

Eventually, because he was a gloating idiot sometimes, he heckled Ford enough that he ended up drinking more than he should have, causing him to stumble around like a moron, insisting he was fine the entire time. At least Stan could admit when he was drunk.

After Ford managed to almost trip on the edge of his desk and right into a wall, Stan led him to his bed and commanded that he sleep. Ford had grumbled, but took his glasses off and pulled his blanket over himself anyway, not even bothering to take his boots off. Stan glared down at his brother before he bent down and yanked the boots off, tossing them under the bed. Ford was snoring almost instantly, and for a second Stan could almost see the fifteen-year-old nerd that he’d taken to the peer and shared a couple of their father’s beers with.

_Yeah, still a lightweight._

\--

Seeing Mabel interact with Pacifica positively used to put a scowl on his face, but now that he knew how badly the girl had been treated by her parents, and that she had a good heart, now it made him smile. There was still some hostility between them, but after a long day, they were now sitting and enjoying some Pitt Cola on the porch of the Northwest Mansion, or what was done being rebuilt, anyway.

Pacifica had come by early in the morning. She hadn’t even disguised herself, either. She was wearing much more laid back attire than normal, but her face was in plain sight. She explained that she and her mother were working on repairs for the town and overseeing it. Due to the fact that her father’s face was still shuffled, he remained out of the public eye and the duties of the Northwest family went to Mrs Northwest, who wasn’t particularly good much besides party planning and letting others do work for her.

So, Pacifica had taken charge. Dipper and Mabel were both surprised by this at first, but he admitted that it made sense. Pacifica was proud and almost always sure of herself. And after she had directly defied her parents’ orders, she’d proven that she could take charge and make good decisions. And part of what she decided to take charge of was to help rebuild the town with their plethora of wealth. She wanted to reshape the Northwest name into something she and the town could be proud of. The twins had no problem helping her with that.

She didn’t make them do any hard labor like he thought she would have, either. Instead, she told Mabel to help with worker moral, and Mabel of course excelled at that. Even if the colder weather was beginning to trail in, it was still labor, and it was hard to keep a chipper attitude when lifting steel beams and lumber all day long. Dipper was asked to help direct the workers to where they needed to be, so he was mostly just going back and forth talking to people, sometimes giving insight to how the building used to look. They were working on City Hall first.

It had been fun (especially seeing Mabel being peppy again), but it was nice to relax. Dipper was listening to Pacifica and Mabel talk about the day, and when he sometimes glanced over he locked eyes with Pacifica, who looked at him weirdly. He assumed it was because Mabel wasn’t acting as boisterous as usual. That wasn’t to say that she looked sullen, but how she was acting now was definitely a watered down version of her personality. He tried to give her a reassuring look, but he was sure he missed by miles.

The Northwest parents were nowhere to be found, so Pacifica invited Mabel to cook dinner for them rather than have one of the chefs do it. And by the way Mabel had stared in awe at the kitchen and everything it had to offer her creativity, Dipper assumed it helped. Right away she was diving into cabinets and bringing out what looked like random items to him, but he was sure made perfect sense to his sister. Pacifica looked absolutely frightened by the way Mabel was running around in a frenzy, and Dipper couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’ve unleashed the beast,” he said between giggles.

She looked like a deer in the headlights when she answered, “I-I guess I have.” But soon there was a smile tugging at her lips as she watched Mabel zoom about.

That night, they had the most cavity-inducing, delicious chocolate cake (topped with more chocolate and way too many sprinkles) he and Pacifica both had probably had. It wasn’t long before they were tucked in separate beds and falling into blissful dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble with this chapter. Every time I envisioned it, it seemed wrong. I finally figured out it was because the only POV that fit was Bill's. So, this is the first chapter that's from Bill's perspective.

His mouth felt dry. The aches in his body were prominent despite not moving. He didn't know where he was, didn't really give a shit at the moment; he was more focused on the fact they had a fucking human body again. He attempted to peel his eyes open, only for them to shut again due to the bright light shining down on him. He had been in more human bodies than he could count, so he knew what it was like to hear underwater and that’s what it was like now, except he couldn't recall possessing anyone and forcing them to drown themselves. His heart—and _fuck_ he had a heart—was pumping at a rapidly increasing rate inside his head.

The last thing he remembered was pure power coursing _through_ him instead of _being_ him, and it was blissful. As if the universe were in her fingertips, at his mercy to be used at his discretion. He could still imagine it leaving him and sending sparks of electricity throughout his atoms if he concentrated.

Before it was ripped away, and he was left feeling hollow and soulless, as if he were an actual fleshbag without its innards. Dust being thrown about in the wind.

His eyes snapped open, and this time he ignored their sensitivity to light, forcing his eyelids open as wide as possible. Bodies, bodies, how did they work? Even keeping his eyes open was proving difficult, and he could feel them twitching, trying to shut themselves again. Forcing them to look to the left, he could just barely see a shape sitting next to what he was lying down on. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he was being held down by something, or if he was just that weak that he couldn’t use his muscles.

Bill had brought human vessels as close to death as they could handle, and even then he was able to drag it out longer than what was normal for humans, but now it was taking all his energy to keep his eyes open. He felt like screaming, but he knew it would come out sounding pitiful, so he remained silent.

“You’re awake,” a distorted voice said and he could just barely make it out. His ears weren’t working properly, much like the rest of his body.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over him, followed by a concentrated beam of light that went from one of his eyes to the other. It made him cringe, and suddenly he had control over some of the functions of his face. But it felt weird, not right. There was something wrong with this body, wrong with _him_ —

“I’m mortal,” he said flatly and without emotion, the words feeling like fire coming through his throat. His lips felt cracked and broken from being dry.

Ford made a sound of acknowledgement. “I assume you figured that out by the difference in control. I could only theorize, but I imagine possession is much different than actually being contained in a body.”

Human brains were very limited, as he was finding out. No wonder they couldn’t handle the basic intricacies of separating from the physical form without having backlash. Ford always liked to think he had gotten close, and Bill had buttered him up with compliments on how good he was doing, but in reality he had never scratched the surface. And now he could understand why. He was having trouble focusing his eyes, nevermind trying to put together his entire situation and how to get out of it.

_Old Fordsy trapped me in a mortal body. Heehaw, what a little trooper he is._

Ford disappeared to the side, and Bill tried moving his arms to no avail. He managed to twitch a finger and press his tongue against the inside of his teeth from the effort. Perfect. He’d be able to move in a few centuries. How long did meat sacks live again? Fifteen decades? Or was that the shelled ones? So, basically, not enough time.

The sound of quiet beeping filled his ears, coming from close to him, and then he felt his muscles untense and go limp beside him. It was still difficult to try moving them, but he could feel that he actually had a shot at standing now. For now though he remained on his back, holding still.

“I’ve temporarily deactivated the binding spells on your shackles. If you try anything, they go right back on, and we’ll talk while you’re immobile.”

“How kind of you,” he tried not to spit. “Although, I don’t plan on doing much talking.”

“You will talk, or you’ll spend the rest of your life in a holding tank, unconscious until that body of yours dies and you disappear from existence.”

“Well, my guess is that if you _could_ , you would have already. So what you need is more important than letting me die, so you won’t.” He grinned widely.

“I’m not above torture, Bill,” Ford replied blankly.

His throat was still aching, but he ignored it. When he talked, it came out in rasps. “Oh, man, that’d sure be a blast! I can just envision you jabbing knives into me now, attempting dumb ritualistic torture spells that are outdated.”

Bill knew that Ford had started off as someone without much killing intent or willingness to inflict harm on other creatures for the sake of it, but he knows where Ford’s been, and he knows how much has changed since then. If Ford ever had the chance to torture Bill, he knew the old man would, and the thought of it sent pleasant shivers down his spine. Ford’s natural curiosity would put such an interesting twist on it.

“But you can’t, can you? Those pathetic sods up there think they’re too good for it, right? And that includes you, too. Their humanity is holding you back, Sixer.” Bill took a second to cough. “I told ya, folks like us don’t belong with them.”

Ford came beside the table, hunching over Bill just slightly, hands resting on the table on either side of his body. It was hard to see his face because of the lighting, but Bill could make out the smirk that was stretched across his face.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not because of them that I haven’t started off that way, but because of common courtesy.”

Bill remained silent, eyes narrowing.

“You gave me the chance to surrender and join you, so I’m returning the favor.”

The thought made him want to spring up and laugh loudly in his face. This guy was still a riot. “And why would I do that? Got something interesting for me?”

“Yes, Bill. I’d like to propose a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to bring this up to 10,000 words, but I thought this was a good place to end. I'll probably post another chapter tomorrow. I hope you liked, and please let me know if there are any typos or awkward sentences!


End file.
